


the trouble with liars

by Buttercup_ghost



Series: this is the scent of dead skin (on the linoleum floor) [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Developing Friendships, F/F, Fluff, I think?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, No Spoilers, One-Sided Attraction, Romance, Ultimate Talent Development Plan (Dangan Ronpa), at least at first, oh yeah, theyre trying so hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:59:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: Celestia and Kokichi call a truce.Kyouko and saihara deal with the fallout.





	the trouble with liars

Kokichi ouma hated liars.

He realized that, to a lot of people, that in and of itself may seem like a lie, but it wasn't. Not really. He didn't hate lies, though—he steadily believed that lies were needed, that kind lies were a thing that made the world go round. White lies, ones made out of kindness.

He thinks it's important to make the distinction between people who tell lies and liars. 

They might seem the same—but they weren't, not really. Everyone lies from time to time, usually it to spare someone's feelings.

Liars aren't just people who lie to others, but to themselves. Liars are the kind of selfish people who want to deny and deny and deny the truth, want to live in fiction. People who lie for their own gain, in one way or another—to themselves, or to others. People who saw lies as an escape, maybe; who'd rather have the million possibilities of a lie than the single truth.

Kokichi ouma was a liar.

 

Celestia ludenburg didn't hate anything. She didn't hate silver bullet lies, or hard hitting truths. She didn't hate liars.

She didn't hate herself.

She was simply netrual towards life, going her way through it with a polite seeming smile. Kokichi could tell, though, the selfishness that wafted off of her. She was self serving first and foremost—having been self sufficient since she could walk. Out of necessity, mainly. She had learned that people want to rob you, steal everything you have away and so you have to steal what they had first. Kindness didn't exist; especially not in lies. Humans were inherently selfish, disgusting creatures. She didn't hate them, though—it was just how they worked.

It was just how she worked. 

 

When Kokichi first met her, the first thing he noticed were her red eyes. Red, like blood, on the floor of his parents old bedroom—like the wine they used to tip into glasses and clank around until their eyes were glassy. Like harukawas eyes, piercing and angry and _ugly_. A killers eyes.

He hated them. 

The windows of the soul, some said. So filthy with leaden lies, manipulative. Kokichi could never understand how anyone would love such eyes, how Kaede could even stand to be near maki. 

Kokichis eyes were purple.

His eyes were the color of bruised, of extravagant things like grapes and wine covering up something pathetic. Some people would say they were beautiful, but those were the same people who looked at patch work skin and saw beauty, as if suffering could ever be. His eyes were like grape panta, an artificial sweetness that almost made you want to puke. His eyes were colored like nothing in nature—nothing except poisonous flowers that killed and killed, made animals and people rot and die in a hazy suffering. The same flowers his mother used to put on the dinner table, in a vase and center stage. Beautiful. Deadly. So unlike the red skinned bitemarks reflected in her eyes.

Curently, those same bitemarks and bruises eyes were staring at each other, locked in an intense stare contest.

 

Her hand moved to grasp her tea, lifting it up to her mouth with a giggle, a elegant sip as she waits for him to talk. He remains silent, though, face carefully blank. She sighs a bit, realizing he will not be the first one to talk.

"I have to say, it was quite the surprise to have you approach me." 

He hums, the unsaid hanging in the air, before he licks lips. He tried not to make a snippy remark, his distaste for the girl in front of him, his loathing, starting to choke him. He swallows it, along with his pride.

"I need your help."


End file.
